Luke's Cut

Luke folded his arms over the saddle horn and stared right back at her. She cocked her head to the side and studied him.

“I’d like to take your picture like that someday.”

“Why?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “The composition is perfect.”

“Excuse me?”

She made a square of her hands, looking through them with the intensity of a hawk looking at a tasty mouse. “The way you’re sitting, with the mountains behind. And the shadows...” She shifted slightly to the left and nodded. “It would be a good picture, a very good picture.”

Glory stomped his foot. She frowned. “I don’t suppose we have time now, do we?”

He had the insane urge to say yes. “Hell no.”

She sighed. “I lose so many moments that way.”

She was an odd one for sure.

Boone raised his head and gave a light woof. From around the corner of the barn came piling six of his offspring, barking and growling and carrying on. None of them seemed to share Boone’s lazy porch hound ways. They charged in. One raced between his horse’s legs. Chico jumped and snorted. Glory tossed his head and reared up in the traces.

With a scream as ugly as his hat, he threw his head back. Luke only caught a glimpse of Josie’s terror before the horse took off with a surge of energy. The wagon went right along with it, banging and clanking in a cacophonous prelude to disaster.

Chico reared up. As soon as Luke got his hooves back on the ground, he started crow-hopping. Time slowed as Zach’s horse joined in.

This time it was Caine’s turn to say, “Shit.”

He grabbed for Tia’s team. Tucker lunged for Glory and missed. Luke pulled hard on the right rein, forcing Chico into a tight circle before sending him racing after the wagon, driving the gelding through his fear as Glory’s hat sailed by. It only took a few strides for Chico to catch up with Glory. Grabbing his reins just below the bit, he pulled the bag of bones up short. The clanging lessened until the wagon came to a halt.

The whole rescue only took a minute, but at the end of that minute... Luke shook his head and glanced back over his shoulder. Chaos had been unleashed. The yard looked like a tornado had ripped through it, the ground chewed up by horses and wagons, pots and pans and other items strewn across the ground. And sitting on a rosebush was the nag’s ridiculous hat.

The yard wasn’t the only thing in disarray. Josie’s bonnet was off to the side, and tendrils of hair framed her flushed cheeks.

“Why the he—” He caught himself just in time. “Why the heck don’t you have your gear inside the wagon?”

Josie gathered her skirts and hopped down. Her hem caught on the edge of the footboard, flashing him a glimpse of pantaloons and ankle. She yanked at it. “It is in the wagon where it should be.”

“Then what’s all over the yard?”

On a last tug, her skirt came free. She turned and headed toward the mess. “The other stuff.”

She said it as if it made total sense. Luke dismounted and followed. Shaking his head, he picked up a frying pan and handed it back to her. “You don’t think we’ll have cookware where we’re going?”

Josie shrugged. Her hat listed a bit more. “It all came with the wagon. I had no idea what to expect, so I just kept it all.”

“I see.” He went to the back of the wagon and opened the door. It was easy to tell what was her stuff. It was tied down in sturdy boxes.

“We’re going to have to cut back on some of this weight.”

That brought her hurrying right over, two metal bowls and that silly hat in her hand. “You’re not talking about my equipment, are you?”

“Would your equipment be in the large, thick wood box, weighing probably fifty pounds on its own?”

She came up beside him. The soft scent of lilac teased his nostrils. “The solutions I use to make my pictures need to be protected.”

“Uh-huh. What about the rest of this? Are you married to it?”

She pointed to the trunk in the middle. “That has my clothes in it. I could let that go.”

They could agree on one thing. Those ugly clothes she wore had to go. If she were his, he’d dress her in cool silk and simple designs to highlight her natural curves and beauty. Deep blue to match her eyes. Pink to contrast with her pale skin. “Do your clothes have to be in a trunk?”

Cocking her head to the side, she gave his question a second of consideration. “You know, I don’t suppose they do.”

“That horse of yours would probably appreciate a lighter load.” For good measure he added, “And he could probably do without that hat. There’s no dignity in that hat.”

There was little left in her own for that matter. One more nod of her head and it was coming off.

She stuck her finger through the ear holes and wiggled them. “Actually, I’ve been informed that without this hat he’s quite flighty.”

Glancing around the yard, Luke shook his head. “It stuns the mind, imagining how much more he could be.”

The puppies came up, tails wagging and tongues hanging out, completely unconcerned with the disaster they’d precipitated. Josie bent down and gave the one with the white front toe a scratch behind the ear. Her hat gave up and slid off. “Hello, Rascal.”

“I wouldn’t get too fond of them. Boone’s pups are in high demand.”

“I intend to get quite fond of this one. Tucker gave him to me.”

“Tucker gave you one of the pups?”

“Yup.” She snatched her bonnet out of his jaws. “I’ve never had a dog before, though.”

“Why would you want one now?”

She looked up at him. “Because now just seems the right time.”

Boone’s pups had been in demand since the day Boone had fought to save Desi and then, shot and bleeding, tracked her, saving her life. Dogs with that kind of heart were rare. Boone was a legend. And everyone wanted part of a legend. Tucker was mighty particular about whom he gave a pup to.

Yet he’d given one to Josie. Luke’s gut tightened, and not in a good way, at the implied intimacy. Was he actually jealous? “What are you going to do with him when you go back East?”

“They do travel, you know.”

“Uh-huh.”

The puppy made a jump for the hat. She held it above her head. “No, Rascal!”

Rascal kept jumping and she kept turning, uttering soft-voiced orders.

“You could help,” Caine suggested, riding up.